The Night of the Turkey Trot
by TheRebandTheDeb
Summary: James and Artemus are challenged by nature and each other in this tale written by writing team The Reb and The Deb aka Pet and Apple .


**The Night of the Turkey Trot**

**A Thanksgiving Snippet**

**by**

**Artiespet and Nittanyapple**

_**THANKSGIVING DAY 1874  
BY THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA **_

_**A PROCLAMATION**_

_**  
**We are reminded by the changing seasons that it is time to pause in our daily avocations and offer thanks to Almighty God for the mercies and abundance of the year which is drawing to a close.  
The blessings of free government continue to be vouchsafed to us; the earth has responded to the labor of the husbandman; the land has been free from pestilence; internal order is being maintained, and peace with other powers has prevailed.  
It is fitting that at stated periods we should cease from our accustomed pursuits and from the turmoil of our daily lives and unite in thankfulness for the blessings of the past and in the cultivation of kindly feelings toward each other.  
Now, therefore, recognizing these considerations, I, Ulysses S. Grant, President of the United States, do recommend to all citizens to assemble in their respective places of worship on Thursday, the 26th day of November next, and express their thanks for the mercy and favor of Almighty God, and, laying aside all political contentions and all secular occupations, to observe such day as a day of rest, thanksgiving, and praise.  
In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United States to be affixed.  
Done at the city of Washington, this 27th day of October, A.D. 1874, and of the Independence of the United States of America the ninety-ninth._

_**U.S. GRANT  
**_

"James my boy, we need a gobbler!" Artemus Gordon announced from the doorway leading to the galley aboard the Wanderer.

Jim West, partner to Artemus, looked up from the newspaper that he was reading.

"Gobbler, Arte?"

Artemus rolled his eyes as he finished drying his hands on the towel and turned to hang it on the rack just inside the galley door.

"Yes, you know Jim," he admonished, "a gobbler, a turkey, the rather large fowl that graces the tables of each and every American the day after tomorrow?"

"Thanksgiving," Jim acknowledged the coming holiday.

"Yes, Thanksgiving! What is with you? Your brain on holiday already?" Artemus clucked at his partner.

"We will be arriving in St. Louis in a few hours Arte," Jim began, "why don't we head to the butcher in town..."

Arte cut him off with a raised hand as he looked away dramatically, "No, no, no! James my boy, we need to go out into the wilderness, bow and arrow in hand, stalk our prey, then return with our bounty, just as the pilgrims did two centuries ago." He was in rare form. Well, maybe not so rare...

Jim sat with his arms crossed as Artemus intoned this speech. When his partner finally finished he asked, "Arte, when was the last time YOU cleaned and dressed a turkey?"

Arte's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. "Well of course it was...it was..." he stammered.

"I thought as much. Now just WHO were you expecting that dirty job to fall to Artemus?" Jim's blue eyes twinkled. Arte paused for a moment too long, the answer evident on his face. _I thought as much,_ Jim mused.

"Tell you what Arte, let's make it a contest." Arte's eyes lit up at the prospect, that brilliant smile growing. "Whoever brings back the largest bird wins."

"The prize James?" Arte's smile covered his face.

"The prize, Artemus, is that the loser cleans and dresses both birds!"

"And I will do the cooking, because of course you shall be so overcome with exhaustion from the hunt and the dressing of the turkeys that you won't be able to do that as well!" Arte graciously offered.

Jim laughed, his blue eyes twinkling. "Arte, you'll cook no matter who wins, if you want to be able to EAT that dinner!" The partners laughed then made plans for the next day's outing.

Crystals of ice formed in the red muffler wrapped around Arte's face and neck, the cold piercing the wool of his coat and the leather of his boots. As he tramped around in a circle holding his hands under his arms for warmth, his brown eyes surveyed the area in the grey light of early morning.

He could hear the acorns dropping into the leaves from the tall oaks surrounding him. The turkeys would be out soon, scratching among those leaves for those same acorns and bugs. Breakfast time for the turkeys. And soon to be dinner for he and Jim.

Artie came to a small clearing bordered by trees on three sides, and rocks on the other. He spotted his prey entering the clearing. Artie quickly and quietly edged his way around the clearing and climbed up on the rocks. Pulling the bow off his shoulder, he removed an arrow from the quiver and took aim. Pulling back on the bow string he readied his shot. Just as he began to release the bow string Artie heard the unmistakable clicking sound of hooves on the rocks behind him.

Before he could put the bow down and turn around Artie heard the clatter of the animal's hooves quicken as it charged him. He braced himself for the inevitable impact as he released the bow string. His arrow falling short only scared the turkeys, causing them to scatter. The mountain goat's horns came into contact with Arties backside just then, hitting him hard. He flew from his hiding place amongst the rocks, arms flailing. Artie landed heavily in a patch of mud, covering him from head to foot.

"Great jumping balls of St. Elmo's fire!" Artie cursed as he picked himself up off the ground. He looked around and watched with disgust as the last of the flock disappeared into the woods.

"Damn!" he exclaimed as he scooped up his bow and arrows and began trailing the birds again.

Jim crouched behind a stand of boulders surrounded by tall oaks, their leaves a crisp blanket over the ground. He could hear the sounds of a flock of turkeys coming through the brown leaves, searching for fallen acorns and bugs for their morning meal. They hadn't come into view yet, however. James waited quietly, knowing that his patience would pay off and his partner would be cleaning at least one bird that evening.

Bourbon colored feathers were suddenly in his sights. Jim sucked in his breath when he realized the size of this old grandad strutting and pecking through the leaves. _Arte will be half the night getting this one ready for the oven! _Pulling an arrow from the quiver slung over his shoulder, Jim shifted so that he could move around the rocks for a better aim. Keeping his eye on the old Tom kept him from watching the uneven ground, and he didn't notice the evidence of deer in the area.

James knew that he was in trouble immediately. His right foot slipped in the deer scat, throwing him off balance. The arrow that he held in his right hand snapped under his weight as he threw his arm out in a wide arc to catch his fall against the boulder. Even though he tried to catch himself, he ended up on the ground, covered in mud and deer droppings, hand scraped against the roughness of the stone.

When Jim looked at the broken arrow shaft in his hand he remembered the turkey. He looked up to find that the Tom was long gone, frightened away by the disturbance. Grimacing, James threw the arrow to the ground, the colorful fletching highly visible against the brown of the earth. He leapt to his feet and tried to clean up a little, but it was in vain. Hunting was dirty business. Now he would have to track the turkeys, if he could, and try again. This may take longer than he had originally thought.

The skies were gradually darkening, though it was not yet nine in the morning. Jim looked up at the darkening skies, wondering if it was cold enough for snow. Sighing he turned up his collar against the wind and turned in the direction that he had heard the flock earlier.

Artie grumbled to himself about the rain that had turned to snow as he trudged onward, trailing his bird. _Artemus my boy, you need to bring back that bird. You've hunted before, this should be a breeze for you, _Artie thought as he peeked around a large tree.

"A-HA, found you again my succulent little friend," Artie whispered as grinned wryly.

He lifted the bow and pulled back on the bow string, deeply inhaling the cold crisp air. As he lined up the turkey in his sights and quickly calculated the trajectory, he released the arrow.

Artie watched as the feathered stick sped through the air toward its target. As if on cue, the large bird looked up as though it heard the missile hurtling toward him. The turkey warned the rest of his flock by making a gobbling sound and the flock scattered in every direction.

Artie watched with defeat as his arrow clattered harmlessly against a rock, falling to the ground.

"No…no…NO! This just isn't right, this CAN'T be happening!" Artie groaned as the last of the flock fled to the safety of the woods. "This has gone on long enough. I hate to admit it, but Jim wins this one. I'll have to get him next time." Artie shook his head.

Pushing his hat down on his head he pulled his muffler and jacket tighter against the cold. Casting one last glance in the direction the turkeys had taken Artie turned and headed back toward the train.

Jim headed off after his prey surveying the surrounding area, keeping an eye open for the flock. He nimbly jumped over a small babbling brook when he heard the old Tom gobbling to his flock. He quietly approached, and as he was pulling his bow up he was startled when he heard a rustling sound in the bush beside him. Jim swung his bow around and aimed in the direction of the noise, when a skunk slowly ambled out. Jim retreated as quickly as he could. He lost his footing when his boot slipped on a rock and he fell backward into the brook.

"Oh this is just great!" Jim snapped as he looked up and found himself face to face with the skunk. Jim kept his eyes locked on the animal as the skunk stared back. After several frightened moments during which Jim was sure he would be sprayed, the skunk hissed like a cat. As Jim put his arms up to block the spray the skunk turned and walked away. Jim stared open mouthed, knowing he was lucky.

Jim rose and started to brush himself off when he noticed that the water had thickened the mud he was coated in, making it like a second skin. He threw his hands in the air and decided it just wasn't worth it.

"Artie, I hope you got something today, I don't think I want to go through this again!" Jim said to himself as he turned and headed back toward the train.

As Arte trudged through the snow that had been falling for a little over an hour he hoped that Jim had bagged a turkey. Even if he did have to dress it himself, as was their deal, he wanted to have the traditional Thanksgiving feast. He sighed at the thought. _If only Dani had been able to make it home for the holiday, I could be having Thanksgiving dinner with her family._ The Oliver family had invited him whether Dani made it home or not, but he had declined because he really hadn't been sure that he himself would make it into St. Louis in time for the holiday. He wished now that he hadn't been so hasty to make his excuses. It wouldn't be proper to show up unannounced.

At the edge of the woods, close to the siding where the Wanderer was sitting, he met up with Jim. They looked at each other, cold, covered in mud, and James soaking wet. Arte slapped him on the shoulder.

"Where's that gobbler I'm to dress for tomorrow's dinner, James my boy?" he asked with a smirk. He was glad that he wasn't the only one to have come back empty handed, and looking all the worse for wear.

"Arte, this was not your best idea," Jim looked sideways at his partner, then shook his head.

Arte nodded in agreement. "Right you are." He surveyed his partner. "So what happened to you?"

Jim glanced over, then relayed the story of the skunk and the brook. "What about you, Arte?"

Arte cleared his throat. "I was the victim of a mountain goat," he said in his overdramatic manner. Jim burst out laughing and Arte joined him. "We are a pair, aren't we?" Arte chuckled, and Jim grinned in answer.

Arte paused in his laughter then, "Jim I am sorry. Dani's family invited me to dinner tomorrow, and of course you were to accompany me, but I told them we may not make it to town in time. Really, I should have accepted."

Jim paused before he ascended the steps to the door leading directly to their sleeping quarters. "Arte, I understand. We may even be able to make it to the butcher in town to see if they have anything available." He grinned at his partner. "At least you don't have to dress the bird now, pal!" He laughed, and Arte joined him half-heartedly.

They parted ways and cleaned up from their foray into the woods. James heard someone moving around the galley and supposed it was Arte beginning to prepare dinner. He finished combing his hair, then opened the door into the passageway. He was taken aback when he ran directly into Artemus.

"James! I thought you were in the kitchen," Arte was astonished to find Jim coming out of his room.

"And I thought you were in the kitchen…do you suppose Orrin is making dinner tonight?" Jim asked. The engineer sometimes did just that when they were in a place for an extended time.

"Of course!" Arte affirmed. Then he said quietly, "Jim I hope that you aren't disappointed that we won't be having the traditional Thanksgiving meal."

"Arte, it isn't about the meal, it is about being thankful that we are having a meal to begin with, and that we can share it with our friends, if not our family. Besides, if I never see another turkey again, it will be too soon!"

Arte laughed, "I don't blame you one bit partner, I concur! And if I can't spend the day with Dani and her family, or my own for that matter, of course I want to spend the day with my best friend."

"Thanks Arte. I feel the same." He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, "So what do you suppose Orrin has put together for supper tonight?" he asked as Arte pushed open the door into the parlor area.

Jim didn't notice that Arte had stopped, and he ran right into him. "Arte, what are you doing?"

"James, I think that I CAN handle seeing just one more turkey. What about you?" Arte asked as he opened the door wide and stepped through, giving Jim the opportunity to finally see what had stopped their progress.

Jim walked in behind Arte to find a table set for four, candles lit in the candelabra, silver shining, glasses waiting to be filled with the champagne that was chilling in the silver ice bucket. At the center of the table was a large turkey, roasted to a perfect golden brown.

"Jim, I don't think that we have to worry about not having a traditional Thanksgiving meal, and we definitely don't have to worry about eating alone," Arte had his arms around Danielle, and her friend Rebecca was standing just on the other side of the table.

Jim smiled at the lovely brunette and grabbed the bottle of champagne. He popped the cork and began filling glasses. Rebecca passed them to Artemus and Danielle, then accepted one for herself. Jim poured himself a glass.

He moved to stand next to Rebecca then took her hand and kissed it. He raised his glass in a toast, "To Rebecca and Danielle, who spent the day making us this lovely meal, saving us from having to eat Arte's cooking," Rebecca giggled and blushed, then took a sip from her glass as Jim did the same.

Arte rolled his eyes at Jim, then said, "Yes, to Rebecca and Danielle, hear, hear," Arte smiled at Danielle, then leaned down and kissed her tenderly. "Thank you," he whispered. She blushed and the couple drank to Jim's toast.

THE END.

11/2007

Pet and Apple

_Author's note: The Proclamation found at the beginning of this piece of fiction is an actual proclamation written by Ulysses S. Grant in October of 1874, declaring the day that Thanksgiving was to be observed that year. There is one for each year of his presidency found on the internet._


End file.
